Children Plummeting to the Earth is a Beautiful Thing

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After the thanksgiving holiday, having stuffed my face full of all the delicious foods that on any other day would not have been justifiable, the decision was made to go skiing. Allow me to take a moment and explain my past experiences skiing…there’ve been none. Thus, I proudly grabbed my new skis, and bought a bright yellow beginners pass. My first adventure was attempting to put on the ski boots. They say that all creative output has some grounding in reality in that our minds are constrained by shapes and feelings that we have experienced before. As I put on my boots, I realized that this is what the creators of the transformers movies must have based characters off of when the cars take human shape, because those boots are ridiculous. They are heavy, and tilt you forward basically ensuring that you do a funky robotic walk. At this point the excitement outweighed the anxiety of thinking how in the world I would get my heavy boot wearing body up a mountain and then proceed to get it back down the mountain.
I embarked on the adventure, with my skis slung over my shoulder, looking to find the grand slope that would be my playground for the day. As I rounded the corner, I saw ski teams and snowboarders take lifts up to a foreboding slope. All the way down the slope, I saw people descending, and caught a glimpse of an old childhood game where the goal was to get your player (a skier) down a mountain without falling. This was obviously not my slope because the steepness alone was reason enough for me to turn around, take off my gear, and cozy up next to the indoor fire for the day. Instead, I journeyed on to my grand pile of snow atop which I would climb time and time again, and down the side of which I would descend, learning the art of balance. I had found it, the bunny hill.
This is not a post about being embarrassed that there were children that were the height of my knee going faster than me down this somewhat tiny hill. Nor is it a post about how I could not stop myself and accidentally slid between the slope and the rope stopping the tug rope completely and causing everyone to stare at me as I shuffled my way back to the proper area. No, this is the story of a little girl who completely and totally face planted time and time again and didn’t seem to care one bit.
She was the tiniest thing I had ever seen on skis and she spent most of the time tumbling, getting up, and running after her sticks and skis that had flown across the hill. Each and every time, this bouncy creature with her blond ponytail and bouncier curls, would get up with a smile, shake it off, turn to wave at her dad so he knew she was not injured, and try again. It was amazing. She was more than fearless, she was bold. She dared that mountain to bring its worst and she took it on with her entire body. She hurled herself into the experience and life. I’m aware that I should have been paying attention to skiing, which is an activity that I actually really enjoy, but I fell in love with the spirit of this girl. When I looked at her I knew that she wasn’t thinking about anything outside of the present moment. She was fantastically happy. Watching that little girl taught me to be brave, and to hurl myself unabashedly into life; hopefully not down a mountain, but into life.

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